Hellhole Inferno (3 page)

Centuries ago, before the asteroid impact eradicated the Xayan race here on Hellhole (except for those who used extreme measures to preserve themselves), Uroa had been a powerful representative, working with Zairic, Encix, and many others in their all-consuming drive to reach
ala'ru
. Now, however, Uroa was also part of
her
. Keana had resurrected him from the slickwater pools, and he wanted to survive, just as she did. And they needed each other to do so.

She went deeper into her own mind, into his preserved memories, as if soaring into the farthest reaches of space. Far ahead, she saw a pinpoint of light, growing brighter. The alien's telemancy was guiding her into his original life. As Uroa now lived in her body, Keana saw herself as an invisible observer in his. Through inhuman eyes, she looked skyward, part of Uroa, resigned to his fate, the fate of the Xayan race, and everything he knew. In the image she saw, Uroa was surrounded by thousands of other Xayans, their large, soft bodies crowded together, their antennae twitching as they shared an all-consuming fear in their last moments. Every one of them knew what was coming—a gigantic asteroid like a cosmic sledgehammer hurled by the telemancy of vengeful Ro-Xayans.

Seeking their own route to survival, Encix and a group of six Originals had sealed themselves in preservation chambers buried kilometers beneath the surface, hoping to be awakened someday. The rest of the Xayan race, though, gambled their future on unproven slickwater, pools of psychic energy that would store their personalities, their memories, and possibly their souls.

But with time so short, only the most prominent Xayans were allowed to store their lives in the pools, individuals chosen by the great visionary Zairic. Not all could be saved—only the best and the brightest of the race, so that one day they might reawaken and continue their racial mission. The selection process had involved judgment calls and politics, and Uroa had not agreed with all of the decisions. Still, when it came to the moment of crisis, he, like the others, seized his only chance.

A bright spear of light, the deadly asteroid ripped through Xaya's atmosphere, guided by their own prodigal cousins. At the last possible moment, Uroa and the last Xayans on the shore plunged into the quivering pool of silvery liquid, which was already a teeming reservoir of lives. They dissolved away their bodies and sentience, hoping that the slickwater might survive the impact.

After the strike mortally wounded the planet, the Ro-Xayans had departed, leaving their world for dead. Centuries passed, the human colonists arrived, and an unsuspecting explorer stumbled upon the pools.…

Though Uroa's memories survived, that last horrific moment was still very much of a death, and the Xayan civilization would never again be what it once was. But the resurrected lives did not want to rebuild the past; rather, they were focused on reaching
ala'ru
. And with the hybrid vigor made possible by their symbiosis with human partners, their evolutionary leap seemed more achievable than ever.

And still the Ro-Xayans would do anything to stop them.

Emerging from her vision, Keana opened her eyes. General Adolphus was staring hard at her with his arms folded across his chest, waiting. Only a moment had passed. When she spoke, her voice was rough and grainy, controlled by Uroa. “We understand your need to defend this world against human enemies from the Constellation, but we are so close to our sacred destiny.
Ala'ru
would eliminate the Ro-Xayan concerns, and your enemies as well.”

In a rush, Encix added, “Yes. Now you understand, General Tiber Adolphus. We must bring more converts, create more shadow-Xayans, awaken more of our stored lives from the slickwater. We have one last chance to achieve
ala'ru
in time.”

“The Army of the Constellation will attack us soon,” Adolphus said. “I am sure of it.”

“My mother will not wait,” Keana-Uroa agreed, this time in her own voice, then the voice changed back to Uroa's. “But the Ro-Xayans may get here first.”

 

3

When the wondrous pools were discovered on Hellhole, Sophie Vence had seen a business opportunity. Filled with alien lives, marvelous experiences, and almost magical powers, the slickwater attracted the desperate and the curious.

At the time she was already one of the most powerful women in Michella Town, managing supplies for the settlers who arrived on stringline haulers from Sonjeera. But the slickwater pools offered something much different, enticing pilgrims to saturate themselves with alien lives and memories.

Sophie was never tempted to do so herself, and neither was Tiber Adolphus, but he had made an agreement with the surviving Originals to allow the resurrection of their race in exchange for their help in protecting the planet against the Diadem. Sophie had established a settlement at the nearest three pools, first a rough camp and then a rustic resort she had named Slickwater Springs. As the numbers of shadow-Xayan converts grew, Sophie had constructed outlying bungalows and a larger lodge building to accommodate them all.

At the resort she neither encouraged nor discouraged the volunteers; immersion had to be their own decision. When acquiring an alien partner personality, they would gain wondrous insights, abilities, and memories, but they also surrendered part of their humanity. The converts spread the word, proselytizing about the wonders they had experienced, the abilities they acquired.

With the threat of the Constellation military and the even greater danger of the Ro-Xayans, however, increasing the number of converts had become more important than ever.

Even so, she had no intention of joining them. Sophie had already lost her son Devon to the mysterious waters, and she did not want to lose herself or her close relationship with Tiber Adolphus.…

In the brightening morning, Sophie climbed a steep trail on the shady side of the ridge that bounded the valley containing the slickwater pools, to where she could reach a sunny vantage. She wanted some private time, quiet time, away from the people at the bustling lodge complex. It was worth the exertion.

Catching her breath, she reached the top of the ridge and gazed down at the three mirrorlike ponds that were surrounded by boardwalks, fences, tents, bungalows, and the main lodge building. From here, the slickwater looked so placid, so tempting, but Sophie knew how many changes those alien pools had brought to the already struggling planet.

Events seemed frustratingly beyond her control. Soon she would head back to Elba to be with Adolphus again, but for now she had her private suite inside the main lodge. She couldn't be everywhere, no matter how much she might want to be. Back in Michella Town, she had other people to manage her warehouses and distribution operations, and many assistants helped run Slickwater Springs.

From the top of the ridge, still feeling the burn of exertion in her legs, she saw people milling about below. From a distance they all looked human, although many of them had the eerie alien eyes, a spiraling unnatural shimmer that indicated they shared their minds with a resurrected Xayan.

The converts had used telemancy to build an ever-growing settlement nearby, a separate colony that featured bizarre alien architecture, surrounded by a burgeoning forest of alien red weed. But many of the shadow-Xayans remained behind at the slickwater pools to help shepherd the new converts. Their odd behavior made her uneasy, though she had been forced to swallow her doubts when Devon became one of them.

Even now that her son was gone, Sophie allowed shadow-Xayans to remain in the camp, so long as they assisted with running the facility. The numbers of converts grew as urgency and anxiety swept through the DZ. The people were afraid of bloodthirsty Constellation reprisals, such as the Black Lord's massacre on Theser and the Ro-Xayans' planet-destroying vendetta that had wiped out Candela. Sophie and the General knew that the alien telemancy might prove to be their only salvation.

But undergoing that change wasn't for her.

From the top of the ridge, she looked across to the adjacent valley, which held a strikingly different settlement—and this one concerned her in an entirely different way. The rapidly constructed, fenced-in camp held thousands of Constellation military prisoners taken from the Diadem's retaliation force led by Escobar Hallholme. All those starving soldiers had surrendered after months of being stranded in space, and the General didn't know what to do with them.

Sophie had to ensure their safety, and provide them with food and shelter until the conflict was resolved—even though they were responsible for the deaths of Devon and Antonia. The camp was supposed to be just a temporary situation, but even so, she found it emotionally difficult to be fair to the prisoners. This made her try harder to do the right thing, the legal and moral thing, to treat them as respected prisoners of war.

She didn't want those responsibilities, didn't like the corner she'd been backed into, but Adolphus had asked her. She had given him her word, and he was counting on her.…

Her moment of solitude was brief. Sophie saw a man climbing the trail toward her, recognized him by his long blond hair as the veteran Peter Herald, who helped her run Slickwater Springs. Though he was now a shadow-Xayan, combined with an alien presence named Arnex, he had proved to be invaluable at the lodge and camp. He moved up the steep, difficult trail at a brisk and easy trot.

An officer in Adolphus's first rebellion, Herald had been injured, his lungs scarred—and he had been one of the first humans to enter the slickwater, hoping to be healed. The effect on him had been dramatic, erasing all signs of his debilitating injury. Ever since becoming a shadow-Xayan, Peter Herald had moved with new vigor and grace, although no number of years could erase his ingrained military bearing.

Reaching the top of the ridge, Herald greeted her in a strong voice that was much different from his former raspy, pain-wracked whisper. A faint, otherworldly shimmer spun in his eyes, and he was barely even panting. “I watched you struggle up the slope, Sophie Vence. You're overburdened with responsibilities. I promise you will have far more energy to complete your duties if you immerse yourself in the slickwater. You'll be amazed at how good you feel … if you allow yourself.”

She turned away, wishing he would stop pressuring her. “No thank you, as I've told you many times before. You, and all shadow-Xayans, promised you would not coerce me.”

Herald seemed more disappointed for her sake than for himself. “I will continue to use gentle persuasion. The benefits are obvious, and I am hoping to make you reconsider.”

Emotions welled up inside of her, and she lashed out at him. “The slickwater already took my only son from me! I don't want to be like you, or like any of the shadow-Xayans.” She started to say something more, then stopped herself. Many people shared the blame for the loss of Devon and his girlfriend Antonia Anqui … not just the slickwater.

Herald appeared startled by her vehemence. “I am aware of your pain, but a Xayan presence would comfort and strengthen you.”

In a clipped voice, she cut him off. “I'm a stubborn woman. It's my own choice. Encix promised that no one would be forced.” She frowned. “With Slickwater Springs, I've gone to great effort to recruit converts for you. That should be more than enough.”

“And it is. You will not be forced.” Herald bowed, then slipped back down the trail, leaving her alone again as he called over his shoulder: “But I can still hope.”

*   *   *

By the time Sophie made her way back to the resort complex, the sky was darkening with angry clouds; there had been no rain for weeks, just meteorological bluster, but even with satellite reports Hellhole's weather was unpredictable and dangerous. The dry air crackled in her nostrils.

Walking through the camp, she strode along a boardwalk that skirted the pools. She heard the excited chatter of new converts regaling others with stories about the alien lives they adopted; she saw fresh arrivals who hesitated before taking the plunge. With more and more people immersing themselves, there had been occasional accidents, as optimistic or desperate volunteers slipped into a coma instead of emerging revitalized with vivid memories and exotic powers. These new volunteers had to make up their own minds.

She very much wanted this whole crisis to be over. If the Xayans were correct, their awakening race was very close to the psychic critical mass they needed, and then they would ascend to some higher plane of existence, leaving Hellhole to the colonists. She doubted that would solve all problems, but she was confident Tiber Adolphus could handle the rest. She smiled at the thought of him.

She loved Adolphus, but in the flurry of events surrounding the war, there had been little time for them. He and Sophie had already struggled together to tame a planet—wasn't that enough? She felt deeply weary, both physically and emotionally.

A group of shadow-Xayans gathered at the edge of the largest pool, crowded together. Among them, Sophie saw the large, misshapen form of the Original alien Tryn. With her caterpillar body and human torso, Tryn already looked strange, but now the female Xayan was physically distorted and twisted, damaged in a disruptive surge of telemancy that had ricocheted along the stringline to Candela. Tryn had survived—barely—along with one human convert, Tel Clovis, although both were gravely injured. The other converts on the Candela seed colony had been wiped out in the backlash.

With laborious movements, Tryn worked her lower body to the edge of a sloping ramp that led from the boardwalk down into the shimmering slickwater. The gathered shadow-Xayans watched, offering silent encouragement but no active assistance. Alongside Tryn, the injured Tel Clovis limped and shuffled. Both were in pain, their flesh fused and half-melted. Clovis was so deformed he barely looked human anymore.

Reaching the ramp, Tryn placed one of her soft arms around Clovis's shoulder. The pair hesitated, as if gathering courage, and then together they slid down the ramp and into the oily liquid. They sank under with barely a ripple, and a few moments later they emerged, rising above the surface. Tryn floated in the slickwater as if it were alien amniotic fluid, her large body buoyed by the reservoir of racial lives. With her bent arms, she cradled Tel Clovis against her torso, and both of them drifted together, communing in silent telepathy.